


Do You Wanna Touch Me? (Oh Yeah)

by runswithwolves (ConstantComment)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn, Porn Video, gay-for-pay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/runswithwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sat gingerly on the sofa and noted the TV in the corner and the extra lights, mind whirling around the number of other gay-for-pays that had jizzed all over the faux-leather with their elbows knocking into a stranger’s… and whether any of them had been secretly kinda sorta into it. Not that Stiles was into it. He wouldn’t really know.</p><p>-OR- </p><p>The one where Stiles and Derek meet while doing gay porn this one time to for some serious cash. Stuff happens that shouldn't, but it's okay because there are [multiple] happy endings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Wanna Touch Me? (Oh Yeah)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened. No, I'm not too familiar with the ongoings of amateur gay-for-pay films (like, how much are guys actually paid for this, because woah!), but I've seen enough of them to know they're incredibly awkward and rife with plot bunnies. Also rife with potentially confused boys, ergo - this fic.
> 
> I warn for dubious consent because of the nature of these type of gay-for-pay videos.
> 
> (Also, unbeta'd but full of heart and potential for a continuation.)

The house was essentially empty of anything housey, with every room looking like another cheesy, 90s porn set of spare furniture and bad paintings. Which was appropriate, considering Stiles was loitering anxiously in the hallway to get a wad—hah—of cash for jerking it next to some other broke dude. People walked to and fro, just normal looking dudes and some ladies carrying camera gear and other equipment, indicating that they didn’t just film gay-for-pays here, but maybe actually some real signed pornstars. Not that Stiles would get excited over it. He could maybe name one gay pornstar if he tried…. No, nope, not even one. They were probably all named Chad or something, if he had to guess.

“Hey—”

Stiles jumped, arms flailing a little, before he realized it was the guy who’d recruited him. 

The guy laughed, shoving paperwork at him, and a sharpie, before dragging him (Well, he wasn’t dragging Stiles _actually_ , but Stiles was understandably nervous. Understandably.) down the hall and opening up one of those doors that looked like painted wood but was actually some heavy duty plastic shit. Jesus, Stiles could not control his brain. What would it be like when he was trying to get it up next to some rando?

“So, Stiles, your partner in crime is running a little late so I’m gonna put you in the room and have you fill out your form out while I get set up. Sound good?”

He didn’t look like a creepy amateur porn vidder. That was at least somewhat reassuring. What was his name again? Wesley? After handing Stiles the papers and a pen with a fluffy cap (porn joke? Stiles didn’t get it), he gave Stiles a once over and nodded his head toward the couch.

“Save the nerves for the camera, kid.”

Ignoring the creepy amateur porn vidding _jerk_ , Stiles sat gingerly on the sofa and noted the TV in the corner and the extra lights, mind whirling around the number of other gay-for-pays that had jizzed all over the faux-leather with their elbows knocking into a stranger’s… and whether any of them had been secretly kinda sorta into it. Not that Stiles was into it. He wouldn’t really know. Stiles sat on his hands when the manic beat he was making on his thigh with the fuzzy pen went a little too manic.

The guy who opened the door next wasn’t Wesley-the-jerk-vidder, but some muscley, frowny guy with the same stack of papers. _This_ was his video partner?

“Uh. What up?” said Stiles. He quickly set his papers on the floor and shoved the fluffy pen under them. Pretending his face wasn’t heating up. _What up?_ Seriously?

Muscles quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hey,” he said, noncommittally, as if hey was something you could say noncommittally. The look he received next was the second of judgy once-overs Stiles had received in the same hour. I mean, really.

“I’m Stiles,” said Stiles.

Wesley came in with his tripod and a fancy-ass camera as well as a handheld, apparently having set up elsewhere and therefore no longer prolonging this business-of-waiting phase and perhaps even moving them into the actually-porn-is-being-filmed phase. Muscles stood near the door until Wesley beckoned him over, and they handed him the papers and then it was happening.

Wesley ran them through weird-flirty-strange introductions, wherein Stiles found out Muscles was 25 and was _of course_ named Derek and found out neither of them had tried anything with guys before and hadn’t done films before and oh—also, Derek was a gymnast in high school. They also found out Stiles liked playing the drums and had just graduated high school, but… _gymnastics_.

“Alright, so let’s see those bods, boys.”

Stiles glanced at Derek, who raised his eyebrows at him—dude was an eyebrow kinda guy—and then sat up, pulling the back of his shirt over his head like some—

“You, too, Stiles. Don’t get stingy on us! We’ve barely even started!”

Stiles pulled his shirt over his head and leaned back against the cushions.

“Nice. A good pair. Why don’t you two scoot a little closer. I’m just gonna put a video on and then you can get started,” Wesley said, very friendly, and tossed Stiles a bottle of lube. The good kind. Like, not lotion. 

Wesley popped a DVD in as Stiles tucked the lube between him and Derek, and then there were boobs and pussies and big dicks all over the screen, and it was a really bad porno, but Stiles had gotten off to thirty second clips of girls moaning overloud as some ugly dude smacked her ass, so… Yeah. In other words, it didn’t take long for Stiles to get hard, rubbing his dick through his jeans and then taking it out when he saw Derek do the same.

Now, Stiles sneakily noticed that Derek was pretty big, not too much bigger than Stiles but a size to incite a wee bit of jealousy. He was just, like, too perfect. Stiles glanced up at Derek and saw he wasn’t the only one sneaking a peak. Had Derek been looking at his dick?

Stiles’ face went hot and he glared at the TV screen, watching a blonde bounce on a guy’s cock.

“I have a proposition for you,” Wesley said.

Stiles and Derek grunted.

“If I add 250 to your cash, would you jerk each other off?”

Stiles’ stomach seemed not only to drop but to pop out of existence. He was already blushing, did they really have to—

“250?” Derek asked dubiously.

Stiles looked at Derek again, who did something with his eyebrows that came off as both considering and angry, before nodding.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, uh… Yeah, I’ll do it.”

There was awkward scrambling, until Derek’s hand—someone else’s hand, a warm, someone else’s hand—was curling around Stiles’ dick and _Jesusfuck._

Stiles reached for Derek’s cock, which was red and still pretty hard, harder even when Stiles started doing that thing he liked, but it was really—holy God—hard to concentrate with those long pulls and that thumb rubbing against the underside of his head.

Stiles was really not at all paying attention to the TV anymore.

“Derek, you wanna play with his balls?”

Apparently, no incentive was needed ‘cause Derek was shifting closer, his big thigh resting against Stiles’ as he used his other hand to cup his balls and roll them gently in his fingers.

“Stiles, you seem to be enjoying yourself. You’re biting your lip raw over there,” said Wesley, after a while had gone by and Stiles had just forgotten altogether how to move his hand, even though it was still resting happily around Derek’s dick. What even.

“It’s… not bad,” Stiles said, croaky, blinking his eyes open.

“Wanna return the favor?” Wesley said from behind the camera.

Stiles looked anxiously at Derek, who just side-eyed him as he fisted Stiles’ cock. 

“I’ll double your totals right now if you go down on him, Stiles.”

Stiles wanted the money, sure, ‘cause shit that was a _lot._ But it wasn’t the money that made him look at Derek for some sort of confirmation. Derek had stopped playing with his junk and was now resting his hands on Stiles’ thigh, still leaned over.

Derek looked hard at Stiles’ lips before asking quietly, “Do you want to?”

“Wha—that’s a lot of money,” Stiles stuttered out.

Derek leaned back against the couch, and Stiles found himself sinking to the floor on his knees, looking Derek’s dick in the eye and wondering how he’d fit it into his mouth. He grabbed it, and Derek spread his legs, thighs smattered with dark hair and balls heavy and oh God Stiles could see _everything_ , oh God. Instead of looking anymore, Stiles licked his lips and found a camera in his face as he kinda—well he didn’t mean to nuzzle but that was what was happening, and then slid his tongue out to taste.

It didn’t taste like much but salty skin, and Stiles looked at Derek for reassurance, or something, that he wasn’t fucking this up too bad. He didn’t need to care for all this to go down, but for some reason… He was kinda… 

He wanted to be good.

Stiles laved at Derek’s dick, fist around the base of it as it fattened up again, and then he was taking it into his mouth, spit sliding down the shaft and lips stretched thin.

“That’s it. What a natural.”

Pretending vidder-jerk-Wesley wasn’t there, Stiles hollowed out his cheeks and sucked steadily as he started to bob his head. It was odd, being on this end of a blowjob. He’d gotten a couple drunken ones before and knew how bad (and sometimes how good) it could feel. Did Derek like it? Or was he pretending Stiles was a girl? 

He slid his lips down to his fingers at the base of Derek’s cock, just to try, and then he was looking up at Derek. Derek was staring down at him open-mouthed, like he was in pain.

“You have a gag reflex, Stiles?” Wesley asked.

Stiles grunted before pulling off a little and paying some extra attention to the head, tongue flicking slowly over that spot that always got him real quick. Derek sucked in a breath at that, and just as soon as Stiles’ had taken a big breath of air, Derek’s hand was sliding over his hair, fingers curling behind his ear, almost protectively.

Stiles’ stomach flipped and his dick jumped between his legs.

And yeah, yep. He was one of those guys.

Stiles backed off quickly and took a deep breath before working Derek’s cock back into his mouth, feeling it hit the back of his throat and feeling no discomfort save for the tightness around his lips. Spit was shining up Derek’s cock and it was so red, it made Stiles’ thighs tighten in sympathy.

“Am I allowed to come?” Derek asked gruffly, seeming to regret it once he’d said it.

“You could go further for more money,” Wesley suggested.

Derek’s fingers scraped against Stiles’ scalp and his hips juddered. “No, not… not—”

Stiles wrapped his fingers back around Derek’s cock and pumped it as he flicked his tongue over the head, watching everything play out on Derek’s face, and watching the pleasure make Derek’s stomach twitch.

Stiles rested his forearm over Derek’s navel and took him in one last time, swallowing deep.

Derek huffed out, like he was in pain, but Stiles could feel him start to come in his lips and in the fingers tightening over Stiles’ wrist. Stiles pulled off, stupidly, which earned him several stripes of come across his face and over his lips, and Wesley’s camera was panning over Derek’s shuddering body and the come dripping down Stiles’ cheeks and holy Jesus, what had just happened?

Stiles wiped the mess off best he could with the back of his hand, and found Derek’s thumbs on his cheeks as he knelt up.

“Derek, help Stiles out, why don’t you? He hasn’t gotten to come yet.”

Stiles stood, knees red and cock dripping a little, and he was mortified, still wiping come onto his forearms, but Derek just grasped at his hips and pulled him into his lap. He had a lube slick fist around Stiles’ cock before Stiles had opened his eyes, and was watching Stiles avidly as he started to shake a little and had to lean his arms on the back of the couch.

This was the gayest gay-for-pay scene ever, Stiles thought crazily, before he was moaning quietly and juddering his hips up into the exquisite, slippery circle of Derek’s hand. When Derek’s other hand squeezed his thigh, Stiles lost it, shivering as he painted Derek’s stomach with a bigger load than he’d had in a long time.

“Wow, good job boys,” Wesley said eventually, again panning his camera across their messy skin and then retreating behind the tripod to make sure the larger shot was good.

Stiles tried climbing off of Derek, but his legs had gone Bambi as they sometimes did after he would come his brains out. He ended up collapsing to Derek’s side, one leg still over Derek’s lap.

Derek was still staring at the ceiling by the time Wesley tossed wet wipes at Stiles, followed by a washcloth.

“If you’re okay with doing another shoot down the line, I’m sure Argent Studios would have you back once they see this. Lots of times guys need to go all the way to sell, but we didn’t need that today. Not that we wouldn’t have liked it.”

Stiles watched Derek silently as Wesley walked them through potential follow-ups and wondered what was going through the guy’s head. Would he want to show up, or had he been just putting on a show for the camera?

Stiles had lost himself so much that when he got outside, followed by a quiet Derek (whose eyebrows were now permanently V-shaped), he was surprised to see how bright it was, how little time he’d spent in the studios.

“Uh,” Stiles said. “So, maybe I’ll see you. I guess.”

Derek looked at him, really looked, and Stiles was mentally noting how green his eyes were so he never saw it coming. Derek had gotten all up in Stiles’ bubble and was looking down at his lips.

“Why are you angrily looking at my—” Derek grabbed Stiles’ waist and leaned down, covering Stiles’ lips with his own and slipping his tongue in once Stiles had kinda just—yeah, he totally more than let it happen—and they were kissing in front of a porn set. What even was Stiles’ life?

He had more than $1,000 in his pocket and a muscley-frowny dude in his arms who was doing some seriously awesome things to his mouth and _wow._

When Derek pulled away he pulled Stiles’ hand toward him and, as if he would change his mind if he didn’t go so fast, slammed a business card into Stiles’ hand and walked quickly down the road toward the nearest bus stop. Stiles watched him go, kinda glad he now had a way to see him again. He looked down at the card, learning more in that second about Derek than he had in the two hours he been shooting a porno.

“Insta-connection on a porn set. Of course. Also, gayness is a thing now,” Stiles muttered to himself as he walked up the road.

Before he got on his own bus back home, he sucked it up—oh God—and texted the cell number on the card:

**so i know weve touched each others dicks but i really would actually like to know you so please make like ABBA and take a chance on me. –stiles**

On the stop before his, his phone buzzed.

**Agreed. Having identity crisis right now, but very much agreed.**

Stiles smiled the rest of the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr during the times I'm not here, and I'm definitely on a sterek kick, so come visit and share the TW love! [RUNSWITHWOLVES.TUMBLR.COM](http://runswithwolves.tumblr.com)


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